Elsie Wants a Ride
by Channel D
Summary: Tim, the safe driver, is expected to give his great aunt Elsie a ride in his Porsche as a family duty. However, this safe driver has just wrecked his car and broken his leg. Can the team pitch in to save the day--and an inheritance? Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Elsie Wants a Ride  
by channelD**

- - - - -

_written for_: the NFA _Because We're a Team_ challenge. The aim of the challenge is to show how Gibbs' team is more than a team; they're a family.  
_rating_: K plus  
_genre_: light angst and humor  
_characters_: Tim & the team...and Elsie (OC)

- - - - -

disclaimer: As always, I own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

Tony came into the hospital emergency room, his open rain coat flapping as he walked quickly. Looking around, he didn't see his target anywhere. "Timothy McGee?" he asked at the front desk.

The nurse eyed him. "Are you family?"

"He's my goofy baby brother." Tony lied smoothly. "Got himself in trouble again. Dad's gonna freak. Can I see him?"

She looked skeptical, but only said, "Room 3."

"Thanks!" He gave her a dazzling smile, and headed for the room. When he turned away from the nurse, he dropped the smile. On the phone Tim had sounded scared and in pain. Something was very wrong; something beyond his injuries, maybe. And he had called Tony, as a friend, for help. Sounding scared, which wasn't like Tim.

- - - - -

"Hey—!" Tony grinned, throwing his arms wide as he entered the room. It was fake enthusiasm, meant to help cheer up his teammate, who looked like he could use it. Tim lay on a gurney; his left leg still bearing the splint that the EMTs had put on at the accident scene. His face and arms sported bruises, and his face was contorted in pain.

"Hey," Tim said back, weakly. "Thanks for coming."

"You sure you're going to need a ride home tonight, Probie? You look like you've got your invitation for at least a night's stay at this fine establishment."

"Nah. Just a busted leg; that's it. As soon I get x-rays and get a cast, I can go." He paused, closing his eyes. "They must be backlogged. I've been triaged, but not seen by the doctor yet. Sorry to make you wait."

"S'okay…Mind telling me what happened? You sounded scared as a little girl on the phone."

"I totaled my car."

"I gathered that."

"Guy ran a stop sign. I only saw him a split second before impact. The side air bag helped, but…"

Tony waited. Tim should have been more forthcoming. True, auto accidents were scary, but Tim was not seriously hurt, and he should be used to this sort of thing. "And?" he finally said. "Something's given you the shivers. What?"

"My family is coming to visit this weekend. Along with my great-aunt Elsie, who was looking forward to a ride in my Porsche, and had been led to believe by my parents that I was a very safe driver. Elsie is 83, set in her ways, and very, very fussy about whom she lets drive her."

"Aha! So your problem is practical; not medical, emotional, financial, decoratorical, fumi—"

"Wait a second. 'Decoratorical' isn't even a word. But no, it's more than practical. Tony, this is family honor. My dad is going to kill me for screwing up these arrangements."

"So, call him and tell him this isn't a good time to come. You don't need to tell him why. Suggest they come in about 8 weeks' time. Then you'll be healed and fully mobile."

"They're on their way here already," Tim moaned. "They're driving. Elsie is afraid of flying."

Tony sensed that something important still wasn't coming out. He pulled up a chair to Tim's gurney. "Are you going to tell me what's really bothering you, or do I have to get Abby out here to hug it out of you?"

Tim sighed and didn't speak for a minute. "Elsie is rich. Filthy rich. My dad, her favorite (she says) relative, stands to inherit a couple million when she dies. For years he has been trying to stay on her good side to ensure this. For one thing, an additional couple million will be left by her to his non-profit meteorological educational program. And I, as Dad's son, have to also behave in her presence."

"Well, that's…that's…"

"I'm dead, Tony. Unless I can come up with a rental or loaner Porsche Boxster by Saturday, and be able to drive it with this leg, I will be dead to my family. If I'm not literally dead, they will finish me off."

Tony chuckled. "This is a joke, right? You hauled me out on a rainy night for a shaggy dog story? 'Cause I've met your parents, remember, and they're about the nicest people I know." He kept back a wistful sigh. Every time Tim talked about his childhood or his family, Tony felt envious; longing for the happy childhood he'd never had.

"They are. In everything but this. It's the one item that we've fought about for years. How will I tell my dad that my car is wrecked…and I can't drive…"

"Lots of people can drive with a broken left leg. It depends on how the cast sits on your leg."

Tim finally brightened, a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Why don't you leave this to me?"

"Oh, man. I would owe you so much, Tony!"

"Just the cost of the Porsche rental."

- - - - -

After a long wait, Tim's leg was put in a cast below the knee, and, armed with crutches, he was ready to go. "You need anything?" Tony said as he dropped Tim off at his Silver Spring apartment and unlocked the door for him.

"A new family," Tim said shortly.

"A little beyond my power. Since you won't be going to work tomorrow, just spend the time relaxing. I'll call you about the car rental."

"They're arriving tomorrow night, Tony!"

"I know. Don't panic. Team NCIS is on the case." With a flippant wave, he was off.

- - - - -

Once at home, Tony phoned Abby. "This better be good, Tony. It's 11 o'clock and you're interrupting my viewing of _The Simpsons_."

"Don't you have all the episodes memorized? Abbs, Tim is in trouble and needs our help." He explained about the car wreck and told her what he needed to have her do.

- - - - -

Tony was at work early the next day, Friday, and showed off a picture he'd taken of Tim in the ER as evidence of Tim's absence from work. Gibbs only rolled his eyes. On break, Tony made some phone calls and found a dealership that would rent him a Boxster for a price that made him whistle. Nonetheless, he pulled out his credit card and reserved it; promising to pick it up that evening.

He called Tim at lunch. "Ziva's coming over to your place after work to fix you dinner," he said, over Ziva's surprised look. He grinned weakly at her when he remembered he hadn't discussed this with her. "I'll bet you haven't eaten all day. Broken legs are the world's biggest nuisance. Now, Abby will be over there first thing Saturday morning, before your family gets there."

"_Why? What's she going to do?"_

"Be there for you as a friendly distraction, to keep your father from tearing you limb from limb."

"_You didn't get a rental car!"_

"Have I ever let you down?! Of course I got the car. I'm picking it up after work. I'll drop it off at your place bright and early tomorrow morning, around the time that Abby gets there. Then since she'll be riding with you, I'll borrow her car, and come pick her up at the end of the d—"

"_Tony!!"_

"What?"

"_The Boxster only seats_ two. _It can't hold me_ and _Abby_ and _Elsie!"_

"Ahhhhhhhhh….Is your aunt small? Maybe she could sit on Abby's lap. _Don't hang up, Prob—"_ He looked at Ziva in surprise. "He hung up!"

She shot paperclips at him with a rubberband bowstring. They stung where they hit. "Do not expect sympathy from me, you who have volunteered my services without asking me!"

"Cut me some slack! The Probster's going through some heavy family issues right now, and needs us." He explained.

"His father would be angry with him over a car crash that was not his fault?" Ziva asked soberly.

"All because of a stupid inheritance. Which may never even come to pass. I've seen a lot of them fizzle. Maybe the old lady will leave it all to her parakeet."

"Money," Ziva said softly. "The love of gold is the root of all evil. Call him back. Tell him I will be there at 6."

- - - - -

It had been a quiet day, with no new case for the team. This was good; it meant they'd get to leave work on time. Tony was going over a cold case at 4 when Tim called him.

"_I can't do it, Tony! They'll disown me—as in, throwing me out of the family!"_ Tim said frantically. _"I'm going to call them now and confess everything, and maybe they'll just turn around and go home!"_

Tony still hadn't figured out why Tim was so troubled by all this. Surely he couldn't believe that people as nice as his parents would actually disown him. He wanted to tell Tim that having his parents turn around and go home might be the best option after all, but he knew Tim didn't want to hear that. "Now, calm down. Everything's gonna work out. You've got the Tonster on the case!"

But Tim was still sobbing. "Hey. Hey. Ziva will be there soon," said Tony. "And maybe after I pick up your rental car, I'll swing by, too. See ya later, Probie."

He hung up the phone, looking troubled himself. One thing he was sure of—at the earliest opportunity, he would give the McGees a piece of his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

- - - - -

There was a delay in the paperwork at the Porsche dealership, and by the time Tony was out of there with the rented Boxster, it was already pushing 8 p.m. With Tim's apartment nearly 45 minutes away, Tony wondered if it was worth it to go out there tonight. He phoned Ziva.

"_We have finished dinner, and I am clearing away the dishes,"_ she reported. _"No, nothing special. Just chicken cutlets, in my secret sauce."_

Tony looked at the empty McDonald's bag on the seat beside him and sighed over the dealership's slowness. "Have his parental units arrived yet?"

"_His what? Oh, his family? They have not yet reached Silver Spring. They called a little while ago and said traffic was heavy. They will not come by tonight, but will be here first thing in the morning."_

"Okay; tell him I'll be by with the car around 9."

"_Do better. Abby is expecting to be here at 7."_

"Yikes! All right, all right; I'll be there by 7." _The things we do because we're a team! _he thought.

- - - - -

At 6:45 the next morning, Abby pulled her blood-red car up to the curb near, but not at, Tim's apartment building. She wanted to leave plenty of room for his family to park closer in…and also wanted to not be boxed in, in case she felt the need to make a quick getaway. _Don't think that!_ she scolded herself. _You're doing this for Tim, because he needs you._

"Tim!" she called at the door. "It's Abby. I'm letting myself in." He'd long ago entrusted her with a key to his place so she take in his mail or whatnot if he went out of town.

She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed but struggling to tuck his shirt in. It may have been easier trying to do it that way than by standing and leaning into crutches, but it couldn't have been _much_ easier.

"Oh, Tim! You look…"

He turned his bruised face to her, expectantly.

"…awesome," she said, smiling. "But I can make you look even better."

Frowning at the decorative bag she held, he said, "Oh, no, Abby! You're not putting makeup on me to hide my bruises!"

"Who said anything about _hiding_ them? I was going to _enhance_ them. Maybe add a gash or two."

"No!! I don't lie to my family."

"It wouldn't be lying…exactly. You'd be just…" Abby waved her arms, reaching for words. Tim only sighed and turned his head away.

"When will they be here?" she asked, still determined to do her part to help him.

"They said 9. My aunt Elsie is very particular about her breakfast, so they've had to call around to places that will suit her diet."

"What does she eat? Peacock eggs?" Even as Abby said that, a wild idea formed in her mind, which she brushed aside.

"I don't know," said Tim. "I just know she's fussy about it. Won't eat at any place that uses paper napkins, for example."

A car was heard coming up the driveway; a familiar sound to the engine. A Porsche engine. "That's Tony!" Abby exclaimed, jumping up and running to the door. Tim hobbled slowly behind her.

"TONY!!" Tim's yell carried on the wind as he and Abby stood on the stoop, slack-jawed.

Tony was already out of the car, grinning ear-to-ear. "Ain't she a beaut?! I can see why you like driving her, Probie! If she were a girl, I'd—"

"YOU IDIOT!!"

"What??"

"That's a _copper_ Boxster. My car is a _silver_ Boxster!!"

Tony put his hand behind his head and grimaced at the ground. "I know, I know. This is what the dealership had. But your parents haven't _seen_ your car, have they?"

"Well…no…"

"So if they think you told them it was silver, you chuckle at the misunderstanding, and move on. They'll never suspect."

Tim rolled his eyes. "But I probably _did_ tell them it was silver. My father's a car nut. He's the one who selected my car for my 16th birthday. The one I also totaled."

Tony stared at him for a long moment, then pulled out his phone as they all went inside Tim's place.

"Who are you calling?" asked Abby.

"Ziva. Our only way of coming out of this with our sanity intact would be if she eliminates a few a McGees."

"Stop that!!" Tim snapped, while Abby turned her head toward the window.

"Do your parents drive a light blue Explorer? If so, they're here."

"7:19," Tony said, too cheerfully. "Early birds."

"I'm dead," Tim moaned. "Abby, you stand over here. You'll be my, uh…and Tony, maybe you'd better get—"

"What's the matter, Timmy? Don't you want them to meet your…friend?" Tony said, putting his arm around Tim's shoulder.

"NO!" Tim squawked, throwing Tony's arm off.

Abby tried to look severe with Tony, but a grin kept forming. "You," she said, "are having too much fun at poor Tim's expense."

The door bell rang, and Abby ran to open the door. "Mrs. McGee! Mr. McGee! How lovely to see you again! And you must be Tim's dear Aunt Elsie. Let me give you a hug!"

"Uh, Abby, no!" Tim cried, softly, as Abby's arms enveloped the petite, elderly woman who weighed about as much as a sparrow. But Abby's hug was gentle, and her smile attempted to wipe away the older woman's sputters.

"You're here, ah, early, Abby," said Cleo McGee with a mildly critical look, while her husband, Kale, only smiled.

"Oh, well, you know me! I'm here a lot! Timmy and I are just…well, I'm here a lot!" Abby said, bouncing. At the far end of the room, Tony nearly choked trying to keep from laughing.

"Can we come inside? Is Tim, ah, up?"

"Hi, Mom. Yes, I'm up," Tim called, and slowly moved closer.

"Oh, Baby!" Cleo cried on seeing him, and Kale yelped. "What have you done to yourself?!"

"Just a little, ah, work-related injury," Tony said swiftly. "We'd tell you about it, but it's….classified. You understand."

"Tim is so, so brave," Abby said soulfully.

"Hello, Tony," said Kale. "Are there any more of you here? Ziva? Gibbs?"

"Nope, just us. This isn't that large an apartment, you know." Tony smiled pleasantly. Abby was right; this was fun.

"Can you drive with that cast on, Timothy?" Elsie asked, critically.

Tim suddenly realized he hadn't fully considered the effect of leg room and the range of motion of his leg in a cast. "Uh, sure. Of course."

"I'd be happy to drive you, Ms. McGee," Tony offered. "Tim lets me borrow his car all the time." Again he put an arm around Tim's shoulder, which Tim again threw off with a glare.

"Oh, no you don't! I've been told Timothy is one of the world's safest drivers, and I will only ride with _him_," said Elsie, pointing her cane for emphasis. "Timothy, fix me a cup of tea, first. Then we will go riding."

"It's such a handsome car," Cleo said. "I wouldn't mind a ride in it when you're done, Elsie."

"Well, talk to Timothy. It's _his_ car, not _mine_. I don't intend on living in it, you know. Nor in hanging around here all day. Cousin Fred is expecting us in Alexandria this afternoon." She finished her tea, and Tim went to grab the car keys from the side table.

Tony was on the ball, fortunately. "Whoops! Did I pick up your keys by mistake, Tim? Here you go." He handed over the rental car keys, though this meant that he had to take Tim's key ring; house keys and all. _Well, it shouldn't cause any problems._

Tim looked a little green, Abby noticed. "Timmy, why don't Tony and I follow behind you in my car? In case you need any assistance, or get tired."

"Great idea!" Tony grinned.

Kale looked out the window at the nearly-empty street. "How did you get here, Tony?" he asked.

"I was a cop in Baltimore," said Tony, smoothly. "Then the NCIS job opened up. Perfect timing."

Tim could only think, _Soon this will all be over._ "Why don't you make yourselves at home, Mom and Dad? We'll be back before too long."

"All right, dear. Do be careful."

- - - - -

Tim made sure that Elsie was securely, and comfortably, seated in the passenger seat before he got in the driver's seat. He thought he heard his left leg creak as he carefully bent his knee. The fit would be tight; a bit uncomfortable, but manageable.

Fortunately, the car was the same model as his own, so he knew where everything was. The engine purred as he started it up and backed down the driveway. He saw Tony and Abby get into Abby's red car and wait for him.

With great care he drove down the street, keeping well below the speed limit. _Abby must be fuming,_ he thought, seeing her car in the rearview mirror. "Do you like it, Aunt Elsie?" he asked. "Isn't she smooth?"

The old woman snorted. "Any car can be smooth. Take her out on the highway, Timothy, and open 'er up. I love speed!!" She knocked on the dashboard with a cackle. "Come on—impress me!!"

Tim suddenly feared for more than his broken leg.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

- - - - -

"Faster! Can't you make this thing go any faster?!" Elsie thumped the dashboard with her cane, coming perilously close to Tim's right hand.

"I'm already doing 75, Aunt Elsie," said Tim. Of course it was over the speed limit, but it matched the speed of the other cars on the highway. Nonetheless, Tim switched to the far left lane and cranked it up to 80.

"Oh, come on. I'll bet she'd still be singing at 95!"

_Am I the only sane person in my family??_ "I'm not taking her to 95. That's both unlawful and unsafe."

"Coward!" Elsie grumbled. "Should have known it. Kale's line of the family was always weak."

Tim counted to ten, silently, before answering. "I think that's enough of a ride. I'll take you back to my place."

"Coward."

His heart sinking, Tim wondered what spirits he had angered to get himself into this mess. _With Elsie thinking I'm a loser, there will go Dad's hope of an inheritance. And it will probably be a long time before he and Mom speak to me again._

Before he could wallow further in his misery, though, his phone rang. It was Tony. _"Probie, Gibbs just called. There's a break in the Drummond case—Drummond himself has just been found, shot dead, in Annapolis."_

"Suicide?" Tim asked.

Elsie perked up. "Who said anything about suicide? Saint Peter's going to have to put up his fists to get me." She cackled again.

"_Nah. Looks like an execution."_

"So there's still a murderer out there…"

"Murderer? Just people lusting after my money; that's all. No murderers, I hope."

"_Yep. Gibbs and Ziva will meet us there."_ Tony gave Tim the location.

"Wait, Tony! You have Abby with you and I have my aunt—we can't take them to a crime scene!"

"_They can stay behind the crime scene tape, and Abby will look after Elsie. No other choice."_

"But I don't have my gear," Tim said, petulantly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Timothy. Stop being so cryptic! It's rude!"

"_Aw, poor baby. I don't either. We'll add that on to the charges once we get the perp:_ Not giving NCIS advance notice of impending crime."

Tim switched off the phone in some anger, and fed the destination—Truxton Park—to the rental car's GPS system. Had Gibbs only called Tony, and not him, because Tim hadn't gone into work yesterday? Would he not be expecting Tim? (Much less Elsie?) Of course, Tim had his gun—he didn't go anywhere without it. And his knife, too. His wits might be another matter. He should have asked Tony if Gibbs were really expecting him. Well, he could always go home if Gibbs told him to.

"Hang on, Aunt Elsie," he said. "I've got a work emergency."

"Well! I don't know what to say about that! On a Saturday!" But she didn't sound entirely put out.

- - - - -

Abby's car had stuck close behind them. Tim remembered that Abby didn't have GPS, but probably felt thrilled about tailing his car. The two cars pulled into Truxton Park in Annapolis at the same time, near the MCRT truck and the autopsy van. "You stay here, Aunt Elsie," Tim ordered as he got out of the car. "Abby will come over to keep you company." He made a fierce, no-nonsense wave of his arm, and Abby meekly got in the Boxster beside Elsie.

Gibbs was nearby, with Ziva. Ducky and Jimmy Palmer were crouched beside a body. Gibbs looked up and frowned. "What are you doing here, McGee? Your broken leg magically heal all of a sudden?"

Tony made a move to grab Tim's crutches away, but Tim had experience on crutches and beat a reasonably swift retreat. "He wanted you to be the first to sign his cast, boss," said Tony. "I offered to do it, but McGee was all, 'No, _Gibbs_ gets to do it first—' "

"Uh, no, boss; Tony called me," Tim interrupted. "We—I was nearby. I can shoot pictures."

Grumbling, Gibbs, nodded, and then turned his head again. "Now what are _they_ doing here??"

Tony and Tim turned to see Abby and Elsie standing just the other side of the crime scene tape, grinning.

Instead of answering that, Tony said, "Ah…I'll help Ziva sweep the site, boss." He snatched the camera from Ziva and handed it to Tim.

"Oh, Timothy! Take a picture of me, dear!" called Elsie. "With the crime scene tape. Cousin Fred will love to see it. But isn't there tape available in a nice blue? Yellow washes me out."

"Aunt Elsie," Tim said, barely in control, "I really need you to stay in the car."

"Whatever for??"

Tim waved a hand in resignation. "All right. Just stay behind the tape. This is NCIS business."

Gibbs looked neither yellow nor blue, but close to purple. Tim wisely stayed out of his way. "Got a time of death, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, Jethro. It appears our CPO Drummond died just about two hours ago, which would be not long after the tip line call. Look, see the blood splatters? His head was close to the ground. A quick eyeball measurement leads me to conclude that he was sitting on the ground before being shot in the head. And see? The chafe marks on his wrists indicate his hands were bound."

"There is no sign of any binding now," said Ziva, kneeling before the body.

"I can help!" Abby called, but they ignored her.

Jimmy pulled out a magnifying glass. Tiny yellow filaments caught his eye. "Rope, I think it is. That yellow industrial stuff."

"So our killer cut the rope and took it with him," Gibbs mused.

"Or her," said Ziva. "Drummond romanced and betrayed several lonely Navy wives, remember."

Gibbs was about to send Ziva and Tony to find any witnesses in the area, when suddenly the air cracked with shots.

The first trained reaction of a special agent, in these circumstances, was to seek cover. But Tim and Tony quickly remembered that they had not come alone. In mad dashes—Tim going incredibly fast on crutches—the two men bolted for the cars. "I'll take Abby! You take Elsie! Let's get them out of here!" Tony cried. It would be what Gibbs and Ziva expected, after all. They could take care of themselves, and Ducky and Jimmy, too.

"Get in, Aunt Elsie!" Tim thundered._ "Move it!!"_ Somehow, even on crutches, he managed to pick her up, over her cries of "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

Elsie had just stepped in to the Boxster's passenger seat when another shot sounded close by, and Tim yelped. She looked over to see him leaning on the car, clutching his shoulder, his face gray. "Oh, my word!" she said, and, after jumping out despite the danger of more shots, shoved him into the passenger seat; he who was nearly twice her size. Running around the car, she hopped into the driver's seat.

"Keys, Timothy!" she demanded. He only sat, gasping, eyes closed, still clutching his shoulder. She reached into his left pocket and found them, and started the Boxster. It backed up, roaring, and with a squeal of tires. It was racing off. At some point she would stop and fasten their seatbelts, but no time for that now.

Elsie had no idea where she was going, other than Away From There. Inspiration hit her, while going 83 miles per hour, and she leaned toward the car's GPS navigator. "Hello in there!" she called. "Do you know where the nearest hospital is? My nephew needs help."

No answer came, for Elsie wasn't using terms it could understand. "Foolish snooty Easterners," she grumbled, and sped up. "There must be a hospital around here _somewhere_."

She heard a cell phone ring, and looked around curiously. She didn't own one. How did people ever get along before they had those infernal nuisances? Very well, actually. It was nice not to be reachable all the time.

The ringing stopped and then started up again. Then she realized it was coming from Tim's area. Yes, she could see it on his belt. With one hand, and not too much weaving in her lane, she snatched it up and somehow made it come on. "What do you want?!" she snapped. "We're kind of busy right now!"

"_Uh…Aunt Elsie?"_

"Is that you, Abby?" Elsie liked Abby.

"_Yes. Can I talk to Tim, please?"_

"That would be difficult. He's passed out."

"_What??"_

"Got shot. Shoulder, it looks like. Do you know where the nearest hospital is?"

There was a scrabbling sound on the phone. _"Ms. McGee, this is Tony. Where are you?"_

"On the highway, driving somewhere. I don't even know which direction! Help me, Tony…"

"_I will, ma'am. Stay calm. Do you know which highway you're on?"_

"No!"

"_Look for a sign; any sign…"_

"I don't…oh, yes; there's one. 70 north. Exit to highway 301 coming up."

"_Don't get on that. Go past it and get off at the next exit, and then pull off the road. We'll send an ambulance to your location, and we'll be there in ten minutes ourselves."_

"Five minutes," said Abby, at the wheel, and sped up.

_._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

- - - - -

Abby held a comforting arm around Elsie's shoulders as the EMTs worked on Tim. "He's going to be okay, Aunt Elsie," she said. "He's a McGee. They're strong stock."

"Oh, poppycock, Abby," Elsie sniffled. "People always say things like that. They're rarely true."

That got Abby's back up a little. "Tim is one of the mentally strongest people I know," she said sternly. "He's been hurt on the job several times, and always bounced back. He's determined, and dedicated."

"He's stubborn, like his father," Elsie grumbled. "Stubborn, like a mule. Doesn't know when to stop."

Tony came over, looking grim.

"What's the word?" Abby asked.

"The Probie managed to bleed all over the passenger seat," Tony sighed. "Do you know how hard that will be to get out? And this car is on my…" He stopped then, remembering Elsie.

"Why did you call my nephew a…'Probie?' " asked Elsie, wiping her eyes.

"No reason," Tony said, suddenly tired of the charade. "It's just a…work thing."

"You called him 'Tim' earlier."

Tony rubbed his aching neck. "Look, Ms. McGee; you've had quite a shock. Abby will drive you back to Pr—Tim's place, and I'll go on to the hospital."

Elsie looked defeated, and went to get her purse out of the Porsche. "It is _such_ a nice car," she said. "Very comfortable." She took a long look at it, and then accepted Abby's assisting hand into her car. The red car sped off, heading back to Silver Spring, as a light rain started to fall.

- - - - -

Tony came into the hospital emergency room, his open rain coat flapping as he walked quickly. "Timothy McGee?" he asked at the front desk.

The nurse eyed him. "Are you family?"

It had been a long 36 hours since Tim had phoned him, Thursday night. Tony was tired of playing, but the battle of the McGee clan would likely go on if he didn't do something. As a partner, and a friend, he owed Tim that much, he knew. "He's my goofy baby brother." Tony lied smoothly. "Got himself in trouble again. Dad's gonna freak. Can I see him?"

The nurse consulted her computer, and her eyes arced as she evidently read of the nature of Tim's injury. "Sir! We take gun injuries and possession very seriously in this state."

"It was likely a rifle, not a handgun, that caused it. Rifles aren't regulated in Maryland," said Tony steadily. "Now, can I see him?"

"He's being prepped for surgery. The doctor will talk to you when there's news. What is your name?"

"Tony…Tony McGee." Yes, it was weird to say that. But on the other hand, Tony was here for Tim. Tim's family was not. The team was closer than family was, sometimes. _And I've left Abby with the task of breaking the news to Tim's parents. I owe her, big time._ He settled in a chair in the waiting room to wait.

- - - - -

Tim was still in surgery when Gibbs and Ziva arrived at the hospital. They sat down, flanking Tony. "Do you mind telling me what's going on, DiNozzo? The broken leg, the old lady, the Porsche that isn't McGee's?"

"You want the truth, boss?"

"That would be nice."

So Tony told him the whole, strange story, with Ziva filling in here and there. Gibbs grunted at the end and got up to get coffee.

Returning, Gibbs took a sip and then said, "So because of this stupid, rumored, inheritance, McGee is in deep with his family and nearly got himself killed today when he shouldn't have been out of his apartment at all?"

"That is about the dimensions of it," said Ziva.

" 'Size'," Tony corrected. "We were just trying to help…" He steeled himself for a Gibbs-slap.

But none came. Gibbs only said, "Family matters are delicate things. Sometimes it's best…" He let the words trail off.

"You should have let me talk to the McGees," said Ziva. "I would soon have them seeing things our way."

" 'Or else'," Tony supplied.

"What is wrong with that?"

"You can't declare war on civilians, Ziva."

Gibbs looked up, briefly; and interest showed in his blue eyes. Then it went away as he returned to his coffee.

- - - - -

"Where is he? Where is he? Gibbs, what have you done to my boy?!" Tim's mother led the charge into the hospital waiting room. Elsie and Abby were close behind her, and Kale, looking nonchalant, brought up the rear.

Gibbs was glad that Tim's parents lived halfway across the country. He'd hate to go through this every time Tim was injured. "He got a minor gunshot wound, Cleo. He's still in surgery, but he'll be okay."

"Why did you have him out working when he had just broken his leg??"

"He was only supposed to give my aunt a short ride. That was it," put in Kale.

You couldn't reason with angry parents. Gibbs met Abby's eyes, and she shrugged. She'd tried.

A door opened, and a doctor came in. "McGee—?" They all looked at him, expectantly, and he sighed on seeing a crowd. "He's just coming out of the anesthesia. Everything went well. I'm only going to allow family to go in to see him right now, though, so…" The doctor looked down at his notes as some of the group stood. "…Tony McGee? This way."

Tony sprang up, leaving the others stunned, and trotted after the doctor.

- - - - -

"Hey—!" Tony grinned, throwing his arms wide as he entered the room. It was fake enthusiasm, meant to help cheer up his teammate, who looked like he could use it. "It's Saturday, Probie! What are you up for? Some clubbing?"

"Ha ha," said Tim, weakly. "Not tonight, I don't think. Is Elsie okay?"

"She's fine. _She_ took care of _you_. Got you out of the park, and to safety. She's a gutsy gal!"

"Good. I hope the family isn't too mad over this turn of events."

"If they are, I haven't noticed."

"Tony, have you said _one thing_ these last two days that isn't a lie?!"

Tony thought. "How does it go; that puzzle of how you ask someone questions to determine if they always lie or always tell the truth?"

Tim sighed. "Never mind…"

"Oh! No, you can't all come in here at once!" cried a new voice, a nurse, at the door.

"We're family, and we've come a long way," said Kale. "We'll only stay a minute. That's my son…sons… in there." He gently pushed the nurse aside, and the crew from the waiting room all spilled in.

"Hi, Dad," Tony grinned, over Tim's surprise and then glare. "Mom. Auntie."

"Don't push it, Tony," said Elsie. "You're not in my will. At least, not yet."

"Aunt Elsie, I've got a confession to make," said Tim.

"Tim! No!" cried Abby.

He ignored her. "I may not be the safe driver that Dad's made me out to be. I think I'm pretty safe, and FLETC taught me some driving techniques. But…sometimes the unexpected happens, and—"

"I know. That's not your car," said Elsie. "How could it be? You've had your Porsche for two years now, and yet that car has only 732 miles on it?? I spotted it as a rental."

Kale grinned. "And your car had changed color from silver to copper since you bought it."

Tim's head was swimming. "Yes; it's a rental. Tony arranged for it for me after my car was totaled Thursday. I was hit by a guy who ran a stop sign. That's how I broke my leg. But…where's the car now? Is it at the park still?"

"No, it's here, Probie. I drove it from where the ambulance met you and your aunt, north of Annapolis."

"Elsie did some great, fast driving to get out of the park and away from the gunman," Abby said, in admiration.

"Elsie! You drove it?" asked Kale.

"Don't look so surprised, Kale. I've been driving for most of my life. Started on the farm, when I was 12."

"But you said you don't have a driver's license!"

"Oh, fiddle. Never liked the pictures of you they put on those things. Ugly as sin. I last had a license in…'49. I still have it, somewhere."

Gibbs spoke up. "Let's get something out in the open. Tim felt that he had a duty to impress his aunt—felt pressured by his parents to do so."

"It is not nice to make demands on your family," said Ziva, with steel in her voice.

Cleo and Kale looked at each other, and Kale sighed. "I shouldn't have forced you, Tim. I'm sorry. I just—"

"It's okay, Dad," said Tim and Tony simultaneously. "Now cut that out," Tim added, frowning at Tony. "You're still enjoying this too much." Tony only grinned in reply.

"Money. It all comes down to money," Elsie nodded. "I suppose I should have suspected it."

"I feel like a worm," said Kale. "Aunt Elsie, I really do love you…"

She sniffed. "Cousin Fred is expecting us in Alexandria shortly. Kale, Cleo, let's get going. Timothy, get well soon. The Navy needs you, I'm sure." The old lady turned and went out, Tim's parents numbly following.

Gibbs turned to Tim when the family had gone. "Why didn't you come to me when you got into this mess, McGee? I could have talked with your parents. We're about the same age, we can relate."

"And I would have been happy to do more to help than just fix you dinner," said Ziva.

"I still love your auntie," said Abby. "I would love to go on a road trip with her."

"You guys," said Tim, feeling mist in his eyes. "You're terrific. Thanks."

"Because your family can't be close by—and maybe that's a good thing," said Tony, "we're your other family. Your DC clan."

"A good team is more than a team. It _is_ a family," Abby declared. She gave Gibbs a one-armed hug, and he smiled.

"Thanks…family," said Tim.

- - - - -

Four months later, a registered letter arrived for Tim.

_Dear Timothy,_ it began.

_My lawyers have said I shouldn't share this with you, but who says one should always listen to lawyers? I wanted to let you know that I've rewritten my will. Oh, it's still long and complicated, and my two cats will still be provided for. (In the sense that they'll still be fed; I've arranged for a neighbor to take care of them.)_

_Your father will still get the money he was expecting. He had a slight character weakness there for a bit, but on the drive home he stood up for you time and again, and I admired that, even though he must have thought he was talking his way out of my will. We're on good terms again now. He really is a fine man. And I've never stopped believing in his non-profit organization. It will get its money, too; more than your father is expecting, but don't tell him that._

_You, dear nephew, are magnificent. You did so much that sad weekend to honor your parents and show your silly old aunt a good time, when you could have begged off due to your injuries. I wish you had told me the truth about the car to begin with. I would have understood. I could easily buy a Boxster for myself if I wanted to, and maybe I will. I want to go down the highway again at 95 miles per hour, with the top down. It would be glorious. And maybe I'll get a new drivers license._

_So I am leaving you 5 million dollars because you have marvelous character, Timothy. I adore you. Please come visit me, and soon._

_And your friends are wonderful. Have you noticed that they treat you like a second family? They're in my will, too. And I'm also leaving Tony my car (I have a chauffeur). It's a red Ferrari; do you think he will like it?_

_I miss Abby. I wonder if, when I get my Boxster, she would like to go on a road trip with me? _

_All my love,_

_Elsie_

- END -


End file.
